The Unseen
by TheInvisiblityComplex
Summary: I did something I'll probably regret later but I didn't think about it, it was on instinct. I leaned down and whispered into her ear, "You are so broken." The great Maximum's mouth clenched but she didn't move and her eyes were as unreadable as ever. I spin on my heel to return to Sam, that is until I heard a tray clatter, a yell, and combat boots beating against the floor. -F
1. Introduction: The Dream

**Things To Note Before Reading:**

Summary: Senior year is coming to an end for Nicholas Walker, his best friend, Samuel Phyllis, and the rest of the high school's senior population- including Maximum Ride. When an anonymous tip turns her in, Max plans revenge on who she believes made it; Seeking out first a coward who just might tell her a lie, that she is right. Originally only meaning to punish and return her perpetrator to his place, things start to get out of control. And some believe Max herself is losing it. But when the law enforcement get involved, her most trusted friends fail her, betrayal unknotting from every end; Her only help coming from someone whose dead.

Rating: Rated T for violence and language.

Characters:

-Fang: _Real name of Nicholas Walker, more often known as Nick. Age 17. Roughly 6' 6" in height. Physical description matches that of the book: black hair, dark eyes, angular face, a swimmers build- tall, lean muscle. Lives with his mother, father is dead_.

-Sam: _Real name of Samuel Phyllis, more often known as Sam. Age 17. Roughly 6' 1" in height. Physical description of brown hair, hazel eyes, nerd-like build. Lives with his mother, father, and the youngest of his three sisters._

-Max: _Real name of Maxine Batchelder, more often known as Max or Maximum Ride. Age 17. Roughly 5' 6-8" in height. Physical description matches that of the book: streaky blonde hair, brown eyes, athletic build. Lives with her father, brother, and step-mother. Maternal mother is dead._

* * *

Chapter One:

**Introduction: The Dream**

Note: Nick's P.O.V. (Fang)

* * *

People surrounded me.

Complete strangers everywhere, they clanked their drink glasses together, smiled and nodded.

I was sitting at a white-clothed table. One of the kinds you see at weddings, with the fancy cutlery and the trough of flowers I didn't even like and the minuscule plates the richer people have a habit of using for the belief it keeps them thinner compete with expensive small serve food on larger platters neatly spaced along table.

My mother was there, her hand resting on my shoulder. She was talking, all the people about us seemed to be paying attention to her speech. She was telling them about how hard our life had been after my father, her husband, died, how she and I worked through it and through that hard work and in her words, I became "a successful child that every mother dreams of," and how we can achieve anything together.

I hate this. I really truly do. Its the only feeling I'm aware of.

I'm sure I have every reason to hate the current happenings. My mother, being who she is, feels as though she needs to show me off. She likes the attention it gives her, the joy of having near strangers (to her) congratulate her on her successes and pity her woes.

Finishing off her monologue, she pushed a fancy dark satin box wrapped with a gild sliver ribbon at me, forcing me back out of my thoughts. I looked at it, then up at her.

She merely glanced at me as she spoke. "Open it, turn it over." She looked down to admire her gift before reading aloud the note inside that she must have memorized, "'To Nick, From Mummy; Make me proud.'"

Her attention then turned back to her guests. She toasted, "To us, to us _all_."

I'd had it. I stood and walked away. I found myself looking down at the cake. It was the special ordered kind with a picture printed with the frosting on it. The picture was of a much younger, happy version of me, before dad left.

The next thing I knew was that I had snatched up the knife, cut my head out from the center and scooped it up with my bare hand. I hadn't even bothered with the etiquette of using a plate or silverware as I took a bite and made my way to the house.

I was in the basement when I finished off my cake. Wiping my hands on my pants, I sat on the workbench.

I don't know how I did it, or why. Or what made me do it.

But I did do it.

I picked up the rifle from it rack on the wall next to me, cocked it and pressed it to the point where my chin and throat met.

_So much for being perfect_.

* * *

**Author's Note**:

This story is based on a movie of which, I will not tell until the end. If you know it, please do not tell. Since the plot is rather iffy at the beginning, I've added the first three chapters in hopes to get you into it.

Also, for the romance readers; The movie considers this to be a "Drama Revenge Crime Thriller Supernatural Flick." Personally I don't agree with all of that but to answer whether this is or is not a romance, I would say it's right on the line of it. Fang and Max will get rather intimate, in a way. But the most I'll say for now is that this story does balance on the line of one.

As for my note for this specific chapter, I understand it is rather bland. Its supposed to be, to make Nick's narration have a numb tone to it.

Thank you for reading and reviews and criticism are appreciated.

_-TheInvisibilityComplex_


	2. The Party

Chapter Two:

**The Party**

Note: Nick's P.O.V.

* * *

You know those dreams that you wake up and you feel like you're falling? And you kind of jerk awake, pushing your arms out to hopefully break your fall?

That's how I woke up. Except I actually fell. Onto my floor, ass-first, sweating like a guilty robber hiding in the air vent.

Then I realized my graduation celebration was nearly a week ago since I already had the credit needed to pass.

Most dreams are odd. Others are just strange.

I classified mine as strange as I pulled on a pair of jeans and some random shirt off my floor.

Soon enough, I made my way into the kitchen, plopping down at my preferred chair. There was a plate sitting in front of me with one of those cheesy things you'd only expect mothers in commercials to do or mothers who've got little kids. But my mother is an overly involved control freak, she sees to the full rights of it. It had two eggs- sunny side up- and couple bits of bacon curved up to complete the smiley face.

Mom was reading the news paper, holding it way up so it blocked her vision from seeing anything.

"You look tired."

I snapped at her, "How would you know?" It was true, she hadn't even seen me.

She acted as though I hadn't said anything, and simply continued. "Have you been taking the Nyquil I got you?"

"Mom."

She ignored me and started sprouting distractions. "Finals are next week."

"_Mom_."

This time my tone caught her attention, she drew the paper back a bit and scrunched up her eyebrows. "What."

"Have you thought about it?"

She sighed, it wasn't audible, but she did, I know she did by the way the paper shifted and blew out bit. "Thought about what?"

"That writer's course?" When she gave me a blank look I added, "In London?"

She set the paper down angrily, revealing her dark hair polled back in its usual tight, flawless bun, "I don't need to think about it. You know how I feel about that." She eyed my shirt and smirked. "And what's with the shirt? Irony?"

I looked down. It read "Gluten Free." Sam must've left it here but I saw her point.

I flipped the bacon and ditched as soon as she had her newspaper in its original position.

I hit my room first, snatching a decent shirt to replace the cruddy one Sam left. Then I checked my black hair in the mirror, taking a comb to mess it up so it wouldn't be split away from my face the way mother likes it "because it looks professional." If you don't have the brains, it doesn't matter how professional you look.

I was careful not to make too much noise as I left, I didn't care for a speech on how important breakfast was.

Slipping outside, I grabbed my bike and shoved off for school.

It's not a far ride, maybe half a mile. The hardest part is getting through the traffic since there's a four-lane. But hey, I could do with a challenge.

It didn't take long before I had secured the bike and slipped through the halls to my locker. There was some jock with close-cut light brown hair, a hand shoved in his pocket whose name I couldn't recall standing by it, his eyes locked onto me as I came into his view. I'm pretty sure he must be a customer but I can't remember what his name was.

I raised my eyebrow at him and set to opening my locker.

"Hey, you've got my French final, right?" he reported obediently as I twitched the lock to the last number and opened it up.

I set my messenger bag in the locker and checked it for such. Sure enough, it was there, a Brian Toner typed on it. He was a regular, didn't know much of anything, much less about the classes he took but passed through cheating and charm. Being on the football team also helped.

I fished out the report and he offered up a few green bills.

"Thanks, man- You saved my ass." And he left.

I pocketed the cash.

I was just about to close the locker and leave when a soft hand from behind covered my eyes and a voice whispered into my ear.

"_Gotcha_." I could hear the smile in her voice and smell the spearmint gum she had.

I turned and closed my locker, facing Lisa.

Lisa was a bit shorter than average, maybe five, three, tops. She had a slender body, a heart-shaped face and red- near blonde- hair. Mischievous green eyes. She made it a habit to wear clothes that show off her curves but show just enough skin to make you wonder what it does cover. She's that kind of girl who gets around, generally if she's talking to you- you have something she wants.

And she had it in for me.

She smiled, showing her perfectly white and proportional teeth, "So, are you going to Brigid's party?"

I started walking, shaking my head, "Nah. Too busy."

She kept pace. Looking up at me she rolled her eyes. "You're _always_too busy. Come _on_, it's going to be the party of the year."

I frowned. I actually did like parties, but not all the idiots who turn into complete whores after a beer. Especially when they grab what's not theirs.

Lisa somehow slipped in front of me, placing a manicured hand on my chest, green eyes tricky. "At least think about it, okay?"

I was considering it. But I didn't want her to know that.

She stood up on her tippy toes. "_Please_?" she breathed.

"We'll see." I basically agreed.

"Whatever." Lisa rolled her eyes and gave me one last predatory half-smile and turned, it was as if she'd timed it to be perfectly in tune with the bell. She had a confident walk, like one of a predator.

I sighed and turned away.

* * *

**Author's Note**:

This chapter should be the last shorter one, the rest should get lengthier, especially once the plot is plain in the writing.

I do hope nobody minds terribly much that Lissa is not a total slut.

The next chapter will contain our first glimpse of Max and all her fury. It will also have Iggy, Ari, and Sam as well.

Thank you for reading. Reviews and criticism are welcome.

-_TheInvisiblityComplex_


	3. The Debt

Chapter Three:

**The Debt**

Note: Third Person P.O.V.

* * *

Samuel Phyllis has never been too bright of a character.

And buying a phone through the school's black market had to be one of the worst choices he'd made. The problem itself was only amplified when the ring leader herself decided to take it upon herself when it came to the payment.

Now, he'd been hoisted rather violently into the sink of the boys' restroom as a pair of the market's muscle searched him.

The guys were the leader's pets, her tools- not quite friends but trusted. Both were of fair height and illegally armed. One lacked maybe an inch or two of height of the other but made it up with experience. Both were wired with muscle and dark leather jackets covered their scars.

Sam didn't like being bullied. But all in all, he was weak. So he did one of the lesser manly things he could have done and screamed. Or tried to. The taller guy with the longer, dark mop of hair saw it coming and delivered a heavy punch to Sam's gut, driving the wind out of him as he doubled over.

That's when panic really set in. Sam started pleading with the two, "Please don't kill me. . .Oh, god, oh my god, don't kill me! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, okay? Don't kill me. . ."

The goons finished their job of emptying all of his pockets and pawed through it before one asked "What's he got?"

"_Nothing_."

The quiet, unmistakable clinking of a knife against a metal vent started toward the trio.

One reported to the newcomer, "Not a dime."

Sam shut up, silenced by his own fear. He wondered if she was going to kill him, surely she wouldn't, it was just a phone. Not a car or anything like that.

The ticks of the knife stopped and it's owner rounded the corner.

Maximum Ride was well known throughout the school and the streets. Even with the law enforcement, she'd deal out nearly anything (stolen, of course)- cheap too. And if she didn't deal it, her boyfriend did.

She always kept her hair hidden in a black beanie, no one could ever recall seeing as much as a strand of it and now was no exception. She had her tight-fitting black jacket on with the collar pulled up to where it covered all the skin up to her chin. She had a pretty enough face, her nose slightly bent from where it had most likely been broken, and her eyes were a dark, crafty brown- always calculating, measuring up everything and everyone around her.

Sam froze, muttering incoherently under his breath as he spotted her approach.

"Sad, you accepted my merchandise and still, I haven't received payment." Max had a voice of authority, one that knew damned well what it was talking about. It was calm and cold, never giving anything away.

She stopped where the boys had piled his few possessions, Sam watched, never ceasing his muttering, as she used the tip of the knife to pick up his gum.

"Nike gum." Pursing her lips, she looked at him sharply, "And a patch. You wearing a patch too?"

Sam let up his guard, somewhat. _Maybe she'll just take it and go. ._.

"It kind of sends a message, Sam."

Flicking the pack off the blade, she snatched his wrist with her spare hand and struck the end of Sam's thumb with the tip of the cold steel. The taller of the two boys clamped a hand over Sam's mouth as he cried out.

Twisting the blade, she calmly stated, "You could do better."

Then she withdrew, the knife disappearing back up her sleeve. The boys retreated, leaving Sam hunching over, muttering sorry over and over.

As she left, Max threw a few words over her shoulder. "Don't whine. It's just a cut."

* * *

Note: Nick's P.O.V.

* * *

". . .I love you-a lie; Why?"

Most people can pull together some fairly decent poetry. Matt Canrit cannot.

I was tempted to throw my shoe at him, but Doc beat me to it. A lacy, black and white flip-flop slapped the desk he was standing in front of.

"Matthew, did you really write that?" She said, sounding far more threatening than any 5' 4" woman I'd ever heard. She stalked forward; her unruly hair tamed enough to be tied back and her spine straight to take full advantage of what height she had.

Apparently Matt didn't sense the heavy sarcasm because he replied with a grin, "Yeah, m'am."

Idiot.

But then again, what's a school without them? It's just too bad they can't fly, then the place would be an airport.

"Sit down," Doc barked, reclaiming her shoe while glancing around for her next victim.

I set back to working on my poem again, scratching out the last line and rewriting it with slightly different wording. I don't know what it is that makes writing poetry so complicated, but it's impossible to get it just right. And even if you do, you still doubt it doesn't need work. It's just _never_ good enough.

I felt her gaze on me before she called. "Nicholas, let's see if you can top that."

Looking up, I made a feeble excuse, "Needs more work."

"It always needs more work. Get over it." She patted my shoulder as she passed me.

I muttered a swear under my breath before slipping to the front of the room. Everyone had gone rather quiet, just a whisper here and there, and a few discreet clicks from texts as well. Doc had made herself comfortable on one of the empty desks towards the back.

I hate talking.

I hate the attention of presenting crap. But guess what honors kid gets no choice?

I took a breath and looked down, letting my hair hide my face.

"Day burns down to night; br Burns the edges of my soul; br In the night I break into sparks of suns; br And become fire's end; br The dust and bones...; br Night knifes my breath, swallows whole my tongue; br Turn back, reverse, return; br In the night I see; br The real concealed in the day's bright lie; br Eyes stitched shut; br White teeth smile; br Sleep walks; br And talks; br And feet mark time-"

The bell finally cut me off.

* * *

Sam was taking forever.

I've been sitting here for at least ten minutes now, long since having finished my pizza and just over half my chips.

I drummed my fingers on the table impatiently. _C'mon, c'mon_. . .

Finally, I spotted Sam as he made his way from a line near the restrooms and over to the table, taking a seat across from me. I was about to demand what took him so long when my eye caught sight on his thumb which had a band-aid and dark red-brown stains seeping through covering the tip of it. I felt my shoulders tense and prepared to chew him out, again.

Sam saw me looking and quickly tried to hide by wrapping his fingers around in an awkward fist.

Biting his lip, he said, "Hey, don't look at me like that, you _know_ I needed a new phone." He avoided my eyes.

"Get one at Radio Shack," I practically spat the sentence at him.

Maybe two weeks ago, Sam had gotten himself a phone through the school's black market, paying only the first price but not bothering to cough up the rest. Everyone had heard of Maximum Ride but Sam was the only one stupid enough to fuck around with her payment.

"You know how Dad is, he doesn't give me any money."

I shook my head at him, "Stand up for yourself."

"Easy for you to say," he retorted, hazel eyes flashing. "Because, when you talk, people listen."

"No; You listen."

Sam let out a nervous laugh that I wasn't sure if it was because he did or didn't believe me. I gave him a flat glare.

He glanced behind him, towards where Maximum was and dropped his gaze. He lowered his voice, "Look, man, I can't. I just can't."

I took a breath and pushed myself up.

Sam's eyes widened once he realized what I'd planned to do. "What? No, man, you can't do this."

When I rolled my eyes at him and continued, he reached out to grab my arm, saying "Stop, stop, stop, stop." I just shook him off.

Sam resigned to holding his head in his hands and mumbling something I didn't quite catch when I started away from him.

I started toward Maximum. Her eyes locked onto me as soon as she was sure that I was heading for her and not just passing by. I barely caught it, but she kicked her personal bodyguards' shins so that they quit eating and became alert.

I stopped in front of her and crouched down slightly, "Hey. So how much does my buddy over there owe you?"

Max gave me a hard look. "Disappear." She spoke with a tone one usually reserves for telling a begging dog to beat it.

I pulled out my wallet and started dishing out some cash- all from Toner's report payment. "That enough?"

I dropped another bill and she swept it off the table to scatter on the floor with her hand. "Go away."

Then, I did something I'll probably regret later but I didn't think about it, it was on instinct. I leaned down and whispered into her ear, "_You are so broken_."

The great Maximum's mouth clenched but she didn't move and her eyes were as unreadable as ever.

Spinning on my heel, I began moving back to Sam.

That is, anyway, until I heard a tray clatter, a yell, and combat boots beating against the floor. Within a second, their owner's knees slammed into my back and her fist making contact with the back of my head.

The downside of insulting Maximum Ride like that? She has a solid fist and a _hell _of a temper.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

So, there is your fist Max/Fang encounter- worry not, now that they've been well-introduced they'll be having very frequent meetings.

The result of the fight will most likely be posted soon.

Thank you for reading. Feel free to ask questions. Reviews and criticism are appreciated and make for quicker updates.

-_TheInvisibilityComplex_


	4. The Plan

Chapter Four:

**The Plan**

Note: Nick's P.O.V.

* * *

We ended up in the principal's office.

There were two chairs across from the principal's desk; behind them was the door we entered through. There was a fake plant in the corner behind the desk and the floor to ceiling window upon the wall facing opposite of me overlooked the main entrance and stairwell. And the strangest part of the whole set-up?

We were alone.

They'd just ushered us into the room, ordered us to sit and wait, then left. Somebody had the genius idea to leave the kids who are awaiting to hear their punishment because of violent behavior towards each other alone and within an arm's distance of each other.

That's how close we were, if not closer. And the hate vibes were still rolling.

Max was obviously comfortable with the room and was lounging in her chair, one leg curled under the other, which folded back, foot resting on the edge of the heavy chair. She absently played with her hands in her lap, sleeves rolling up to reveal the blue and brown of a Scooby-Doo band aid along with several blood spots.

Sensing my stare, she stopped, pulling the sleeves back to the edge of her black-painted fingernails. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing." Too fast.

She cocked her head sideways so she could study me without looking up. I stared right back. And we stayed like that for a bit. Her crafty chocolate eyes piecing me together and quite likely going through schemes to murder me. I mean, I don't really know Max but I've seen her around, I've heard of some feats- I wouldn't say I'd really believed but I wasn't questioning her brutality either.

Instead of threatening me she noted in that cold voice with such controlled calm demeanor, "So polite. Such a golden boy. But in the end, you're just as bad as me."

"What?" I raised my eyebrows. Okay. That was a surprise.

She was looking at her hands again but when she spoke, she watched me from the corner of her eyes. "I know about you. Heard of you. You sell essays, papers, whatever." She looked up again and leaned towards me, her voice soft, "You are just as bad as I am, making people dependent failures."

I twisted around a bit in my chair, leaning to my right, so I could get my face closer to her's. "You're right," I drawled, bending over the chair's arm. "I'm a _total_ _hypocrite_."

Max's lips formed the beginnings of a snarl that was most definitely going to retort and she moved to get in my face.

I may or may not have just kick-started Nick v. Max; Round Two.

Fortunately, the principle happened to pick that moment to step it.

Having finally decided it was time to hand out punishment, he charged between us as we sunk back into our chairs. Halting at the far side of his desk, he laid the palms of his hands upon it and leaned forward, eyes darting between us. Pruit was a big man, the only feature that really made him seem threatening. With beady eyes, an extremely prominent double chin, and a naturally rather plum colored face which could darken to quite an extreme color of beat red when angry, he was the butt of many jokes in the school.

"Now. Would either of you care to explain yourselves?"

The man may not be much of a scare but he was stubborn. Saying 'No' wasn't an option and Maximum, having crossed her arms and set her jaw, staring blandly up at him as though it was my fault, was obviously leaving me to answer it. Considering her thoughtfulness, I picked something she would just _love_. But hey, gets us both out of this mess, right?

So I looked him in the eyes and stated simply: "She finds me irresistible, sir."

His eyes widened, glancing between us suspiciously. On the other hand, I felt a questioning glare coming from my right and turned to meet her gaze. It was loathsome to say the least.

Clearing his throat, Principal Pruitt addressed the issue, still eyeing us unbelievingly (Not that I blamed him), "Bachelder, I won't suspend you this time. You know the drill, go home and be back here tomorrow. Dismissed."

Rolling over the arm of her chair, Max sneered triumphantly at me. Guess her last name really wasn't Ride, it'd be too convenient. I watched her leave, stamping out the door and away.

When I turned my attention back to Pruitt, he was facing his overview of the school, hands clasped behind his back. It was between classes, students flooded the corridor. After a minute or so studying them, watching until the last few stragglers were left he spoke, "What's gotten into you, Walker?"

He turned to face me. "Nicholas, you have goals, a path, a _future_. _Potential_."

I blinked blankly at him before he continued, spitting now. "Miss Batchelder _has_ no future, she's _hopeless_. And you have no future with her. Don't waste your time on that lost soul."

"Can I leave now?"

* * *

_TURN COAT_, the book's spine read in all caps, yellow-orange on the dark, smoky gray cover. A crime novel, dabbling into the supernatural with the occasional chance of sex and/or lustful thoughts told by a man's perspective. Something a woman would never care to touch- The perfect spot to hide something from mother.

I snagged it off my shelf and added the few bills remaining in my pockets and stuffed them into the hollow space between the pages with the rest of my secret savings.

A knock sounded on my door over the music playing on my desktop. Hesitant but adding overly much force in hopes to cover it up. Undoubtedly, from Sam's hand.

I turned from my desk to replace the book just as he poked his head in. I greeted him with a nod, "Hey, man."

"Hey." His face was still guilty from earlier as he entered, "So. . .I heard you got beat up by a girl."

"Shut up." Of course he'd say that. Of course I'd get pounded considering I wasn't going to hit her. The most I did was try to push her off of me or hold her still but I probably wouldn't hit her even if she wasn't a girl- people like that aren't good to piss off. Especially when they have the ability to meet you in a dark alley.

Sam came around to the side of the bed closer to me and leaned against it. "Sorry. Look, about earlier, thanks, Nick but-"

I cut him off. "Don't talk about it."

He looked down, chestnut hair falling in his face as he fiddled nervously with his hands. I reached behind me to pick up the envelope on my desk and threw it to him. Not expecting it, he had to stoop to pick it up.

He read the university's name on the cover, "Isn't this that big Paris writing school you wanted to go to?"

"London," I corrected.

Glancing quizzically at me, he opened it and pulled out the letter to read. "Whoa. You're kidding right?" He looked back at me, gaping. "_You got in_?"

I kinda smiled a little. Just at the corners, really. "Yeah."

He handed the letter back. "But what about finals? You can't go," he said."You've still got to finish school so you can graduate."

"Already have enough credits, dude. Leaving Friday," I said, waving the airline tickets out of the envelope at him.

His eyes were big, "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Man that's so awesome! I mean, I'm so happy for you. . .," Now he was going to ramble, his voice raising too much and a touch of fear showing in his eyes. I glanced at the door. "Like, seriously,_ France_-"

"_Shh_. She'll hear you." Sam knows how mom can get.

Sam froze, "She doesn't know?"

I shook my head. "No."

I wouldn't tell her from what I remembered, from when my dad died; I was only thirteen and she had everything planned out for me. For him. For everything, her little fingers somehow finding a way into everything, controlling everything. And I didn't want to live like that. Much less die like my father, he'd gotten sick only in his forties. He didn't even get to retire. And for the past five years, I've been dealing with how to break her controls.

"Remember when my dad died?"

Sam nodded.

"First thing she told me, 'Don't worry, Nick, this won't change a thing for you.'" I was about thirteen then, all I wanted to do was curl up and cry- my father had just _died._ "She's _always_ had her nose in everything, had everything planned. If I stay, I might as well die." _Just like he did_.

Sam just looked at me. "When are you going to tell her?"

"She'll know," I paused. "_When I'm gone_."

* * *

**Author's Note**:

So there was the first semi-civil chat between Fang and Max. As well as some of Fang's background and his plan added in.

Since there aren't any reviews and I'm rather uncertain as to whether anyone likes this story (although I also understand that I did post three chapters at once and on the night before Thanksgiving and that did have it's effect) I am going to hold the next chapter until I've gotten a couple reviews. But, to help encourage you, I will also post a sneak peek from the next chapter after this note.

Also, I've noticed a lot of people ask random questions to get reviews, I don't know if any of you actually like that kind of thing or not so let me know.

-_TheInvisibilityComplex_

* * *

**Sneak Peek At Chapter Five: The Bust**

Note: Max's P.O.V.

Coming home for Maxine Batchelder was always dreaded.

Max hated it, ever since her mother disappeared. Jeb changed when that happened, her father had never been the same. And her poor siblings, the twins had never trusted her to return. And sometimes she didn't.

Her family was never put together well, always changing. Leaving. First her mother. After that Jeb lost his job, the house following soon after before relocating them to an older, low grade but affordable apartment and introducing Anne to their lives. Jeb could never be the same as he was before his wife died; Instead, becoming more distant, harsh, and finding every excuse to work. Not terribly long after they'd moved into their new life, an accident claimed angelic little Ariel. Zephyr was still here, though- At least as much as he could be without his other half. Zephyr was the only one whom Max really loved and cared for, for Anne was an unwelcome, unhelpful bitch that she hated without a doubt. Jeb, on the other hand, Max was very unsure of him these days so she treated him indifferently, even referring to him as Jeb rather than any fatherly name.

Max entered the apartment, stepping into the small, rather crappy living area and taking it in. Jeb's girlfriend sat on the recliner, leaning forward to watch the T.V. while smoking a cigarette that had a more than decent chance of having had its tobacco mixed with marijuana considering the dazed, unfocused look on her face as she watched the smoke.

Zephyr played with one of his beloved toy model airplanes, looking up at her with his big blue eyes as she came in. _No dinner_, she observed. _Again_.

Stepping between the woman and the T.V., Max demanded, "Where's his dinner?"

Blinking up at Max, Anne took another drag and looked over at the kid; "Hey, Zephyr. You hungry?" She questioned in a condescending manner, the tone of her voice scaring the child out of replying. "See?" She directed at Maximum.

Max being Max snatched the remote and hit the power button before grabbing the front of her shirt and practically growling in her face- "Get off your bony ass make him something to eat. Now."

"You will not talk to me that way."

"I just did." Cue shove.


	5. The Bust

Chapter Five:

**The Bust**

Note: Max's P.O.V.

* * *

Coming home for Maxine Batchelder was always dreaded.

Max hated it, ever since her mother disappeared. Jeb changed when that happened, her father had never been the same. And her poor siblings, the twins had never trusted her to return. And sometimes she didn't.

Her family was never put together well, always changing. Leaving. First her mother. After that Jeb lost his job, the house following soon after before relocating them to an older, low grade but affordable apartment and introducing Anne to their lives. Jeb could never be the same as he was before his wife died; Instead, becoming more distant, harsh, and finding every excuse to work. Not terribly long after they'd moved into their new life, an accident claimed angelic little Ariel. Zephyr was still here, though- At least as much as he could be without his other half. Zephyr was the only one whom Max really loved and cared for, for Anne was an unwelcome, unhelpful bitch that she hated without a doubt. Jeb, on the other hand, Max was very unsure of him these days so she treated him indifferently, even referring to him as Jeb rather than any fatherly name.

Max entered the apartment, stepping into the small, rather crappy living area and taking it in. Jeb's girlfriend sat on the recliner, leaning forward to watch the T.V. while smoking a cigarette that had a decent chance of having had its tobacco mixed with marijuana considering the dazed, unfocused look on her face as she watched the smoke. Zephyr played with one of his beloved toy model airplanes. _No dinner_, she observed. _Again_.

Stepping between the woman and the T.V., Max demanded, "Where's his dinner?"

Blinking up at Max, Anne took another drag and looked over at the kid; "Hey, Zephyr. You hungry?" She questioned in a condescending manner, the tone of her voice scaring the child out of replying. "See?" She directed at Maximum.

Max being Max snatched the remote and hit the power button before grabbing the front of her shirt and practically growling in her face- "Get off your bony ass make him something to eat. Now."

"You will not talk to me that way."

"I just did." Cue shove.

Jeb walked out of his room at a time he undoubtedly regretted later- if he wasn't already, his girlfriend didn't miss a beat in catching sight of him. "Jeb! You're just going to let her talk to me like that?"

Grumpily, Jeb ran a hand through his graying hair. "What the hell do you want me to do about it?"

"Say something to her!" She whined.

"Like what? Its _just_ a little food, it not like you've got anything else to do all day."

Glancing between them, Max knew Anne was just procrastinating until Jeb left. She left them to argue while she grabbed Zephyr and made a peanut butter sandwich and cut an apple up for him.

Max plugged herself into her music, tapping a foot to Liam Roony and carved into her spot on the wall with a knife, always a little at a time, never taking out large chunks- a habit she fell into.

Zephyr watched her as he ate. He was so innocent, Max wished he was born into a better life but then again, he was also the only hope in her's, her reason to continue in life and try to be better. Zephyr was why she was still here.

"Max, are you going out tonight?" The little blond boy asked, looking up. When she didn't hear him, he raised his voice. " Hey, Max? . . . Max? . . . Max?"

Finally having caught her attention, Max moved one side of the headphones off her ear so she could hear him, "Hmm?"

"Are you leaving?" he repeated, blue eyes already knowing the answer.

Max nodded, "Yeah." When he looked down, she knew, to hide his fear of being left again she quickly stated "I'll be back."

"You heard me right? _I will be back_. I _promise_."

* * *

Maximum Ride wasn't known to date the good boys.

And this one was no exception. In fact, it wasn't even considered dating, more like friends with benefits. And lots of them, from theft and getaways to romance, there was very little actual feeling between them. They simply had a mutual, open relationship.

Max met him on the empty street as he pulled up an older model of a Chevrolet car up to their usual spot, only a few blocks from her apartment. She slid in on the passenger side, slamming the door behind her.

"Hey, baby-girl," Dylan greeted her. He was an attractive man, had either light streaky brunette or dark, dirty blonde hair that hung loose but was kept short enough it from catching in anything- maybe an inch long, his blue eyes looking her over. He smelled like his car and his work: Gasoline and grease. "You ready to go?"

"Always." She reached forward and turned the radio up as he hit the gas.

They ended up in a deserted square, near the end of an alley, but before a few shops with display windows. The car parked before the jewelry store's display, a nice-enough Mercedes-Benz from what Max could tell was their priority.

Dylan was a burglar, much like Maximum. That's why most people thought they made the perfect couple- those who knew about their relationship anyway. Owning an auto-shop, where cars were in and out within hours sometimes made an excellent cover for him, though he had to be careful- Lately the cops had caught up to him and currently had him on parole. He parked his car in a nearby alley, grabbed a few tools and they walked to the Mercedes from there.

Setting to work upon the Mercedes's window lock, Dylan immediately noticed when something caught Max's eye in the jewelry store's display case, he followed her gaze to the diamond necklace sitting on a velvet case, even double-checking.

"Max, _don't do it_," he ordered as he popped the car door open, setting to work on the steering lock and cutting off the cars brief alarm. "It's behind glass for a reason. C'mon."

She looked at him blankly for a moment, then back at the glistening display that had a blown up photo of a near naked woman, arms across her chest and smiling at the expensive jewelry she wore.

Max, being lost in her own thoughts and memories, decided she wanted them. Max didn't know why but she _wanted_ to have that necklace. To snatch it up. And rather unfortunately for Dylan, Max has this bad habit of hearing "don't" and instantly wishing to do it many times more than originally so. Hearing him only helped her make up her mind quicker.

She was drawn to it, taking slow paces forward, she glanced around, finding a suitable rock.

It crashed through the window as the sound of its shattering giving way to the alarms and a loud "Damn _it_! _Max_!"

Maximum snatched several pieces, following a general five finger discount rule: Take what you touch, throw nothing back. Snagging the main piece, a bejeweled necklace, along with a few side items; She finally turned and jumped into the passenger seat as Dylan revved the engine with a grin and whooped her victory to him. "Woo! I did it!"

As Dylan peeled out, slowing as he hit the main road to avoid suspicion from undoubtedly oncoming police, he reached across to slap her. "You fucking _idiot_-"

Maximum didn't miss a beat when she was struck; She punched him right back, interrupting his sentence with her own, "You always expect me to sit back and do nothing."

"Why'd you do that?! You just kick-started reporting this as a stolen car," He raged, brilliant eyes flashing. Then: "You're just getting more and more out of control."

The rest of their ride was silent.

Max, resenting the fact that Dylan had insulted her, not that she couldn't admit to it. Deep down, she knew she screwed up but fuck it. At this point, who cares? The fact that he'd called her out of control, she didn't actually mind- she was proud of it, even- but if he really believed that, she didn't doubt that he would eventually act on it.

Dylan, on the other hand, she noticed seemed to be thinking over what to do with the stolen merchandise. _Dipshit_ p_robably keep the profit all to himself_, she thought harshly.

* * *

Note: Third Person P.O.V.

* * *

Max had ended up staying at Dylan's for a little fun that night. When she woke, she moved softly, gathering her jewels into a bag to take with her. Dylan woke at the lack of her heat in bed and out of his distrust of her, that had been developing increasingly as of late.

"Babe, leave that here." he mumbled tiredly, "I'll deal with it."

Max did not in fact like that idea. She wanted to keep them.

And Dylan was not a fan of her idea. In fact, he strongly believed in what he said last night, she was out of control.

Having awoken, Max had hoped to slink away unnoticed and was preparing to leave for her house, just to see to Zeph before going to school, she'd rolled out from Dylan's arm and went for the door. But not before he caught on.

Eh, she could just ignore him.

He was up now, pulling himself up to sit. "Did you _hear_ me? I said, leave them here and I'll handle it."

"Why? What are you going to do about it?"

"What am _I_ going to do about it? What're _you_ going to do with it- _sell them at school_? Save up for college?" He paused to bark out a laugh at that. "Its not like cell phones, Max," he preached from across the room as she neared the door.

She answered the question she'd directed at him herself:

"_Nothing_."

Now Dylan was really up and no longer joking. "Nothing? You think I'm gonna do _nothing_?"

But she'd just closed the door behind her.

She really believed that. She thought he would do _nothing_.

Dylan always had a temper but his girlfriend _was_ getting out of control. He wouldn't allow her to use him- that was supposed to be the other way around. He knew she was willful and defiant when he met her but she'd gotten worse. Fearless, even- a reckless, impulsive type of fearless.

That was the type of person who got caught. And having been on parole for the past eight months, someone who was going to get him busted was not acceptable.

_"What are you going to do about it?"_

Oh, he wanted to punish her.

So he did.

* * *

At school, Max was paranoid. Quite possibly still itching with her love-hate confliction.

But that didn't mean what she saw wasn't there. And what she saw kept turning up.

Max wasn't a big believer in coincidence.

And they kept turning up. Everywhere.

First it was when she had stashed her stolen goods away; Opening her locker, she stowed last night's prize in it, ensuring it wasn't obviously visible. Before closing it, she stared at the photos of Zephyr taped on the inside of the door. That was when she felt it. The eyes. Someone was watching her. Slamming the locker closed and clicking the padlock back into place with her spare hand, she met Samuel's gaze with a glare for the moment before he whirled around and high-tailed into the crowd of students.

But that wasn't the end of the watching eyes.

Then again. She saw them again, between classes.

It was when she was scheduled for lunch, except she was thinking of it more as an opportunity as an early leave from school. That was when her instinct whispered that she was being watched by familiar eyes.

They were on the midpoint platform of the stairs, Nick leaning back against the rail looking as relaxed as he ever did while Sam was speaking. Sam caught sight of her almost right away, letting himself freeze up and stare. Nick looked back and caught Max's passing gaze, in all honesty- he felt a new-found curiosity about her. He didn't quite know why, he just was. Their eyes didn't meet long, a moment maybe- no more.

Sam recaptured Nick's attention, breaking the gaze. Or, at least, Maximum's part in it, for Nick had returned his dark eyes to her fleeting form after reassuring Sam that he was listening (even if he wasn't.)

And so, she felt the eyes again. Such black, familiar eyes. And again she returned the stare out of pride and resent with a glance; if only for a moment.

And then she was out the doors and gone.

* * *

Maximum did, of course, return to the school. She actually preferred not to be on the bad side of the principal's wrath.

Drawn by the wave of students crowding an area not far from her locker and the mentioning of the police busting someone's drug stash, Max had crept to the scene before realizing that it was _her_ locker being searched. The cops had cut the lock, and were currently shuffling through her things. There were two at the locker. Slinking back through the gathered students, she considered what she knew.

Two cops, one team. If they had somehow found out through just the random drug-searches then that should be the maximum force they'd send. She should be safe to make an escape through the main doors. But there was one question that was nagging at her, _what if someone had tipped them off? They don't just open lockers at random to search._

And then, just like that- the eyes again were on her.

But this time she didn't look back. The idea of that she was reported and who did it settled in her head.

Someone pointed her out to the officers. They yelled for her to stop. But she didn't so much as glance back.

But she _did_ make a break for it, taking off at a dead sprint and plowing through a surprising number of students.

Unfortunately for her, after the police had confirmed their suspicions with their fellow officers. And having dealt with the Maximum Ride before, they had ensured that there was back-up waiting.

They caught her at the front entrance with no more than perfect timing; any less luck and she may have slipped from their grasp earlier.

The pair returning with the findings merged with the backups they'd called in, and the five of they took her on.

Needless to say, Max wasn't in a winning situation to begin with. In fact, she never expected there to be any resistance at the exit, especially with two of the officers have had been at her locker. But today already wasn't her day, her already bad luck just kept getting worse.

She was, after a short amount of time full of shouting, thrown punches, and restraint, cuffed and lead with her head still high to a waiting cruiser.

To make matters worse for others, Max caught one person watching the entire event.

And she wouldn't be one to miss revenge.

* * *

In the end, Max was left (a mere hour or so later) to her phone call and release.

Punching the numbers with unhurried ease, she called the one person whom she knew would always back her up in her crimes. Even if he, himself wouldn't pick up unless he was told the phone actually rang for him; She went through a coworker on break before she got an answer.

Finally, he answered, "Dylan." He must have not known it was her.

But she spoke like he did. "They found the stuff, I got busted." She said it quickly and with confidence, as if his earlier warning never existed.

He was edgy about it, of course- after all he _did_ take part in it while stealing a car so he questioned her, "What did you tell them." Except, it wasn't a question- it was a demand.

"Nothing. Do you think I'm an idiot?" Max accused.

"Any idea who did it?"

If she didn't already have her mind set, she might have noticed the smugness, that arrogant streak in him that showed in even such a short, innocent question. But instead, her suspicion in place, she answered. "Yeah, don't worry- I'll take care of it myself."

And with that, the line clicked dead.

* * *

**Author's Note**

And there it is, the longest chapter yet, hopefully- they will stay at this length from here. And a fair amount more of the plot and Max's life.

Thank you to those who have reviewed and follow this tale, updates will most likely be Sunday/Wednesdays, since I don't have training those days.

Review please.

_-TheInvisibilityComplex_


	6. The Coward

Chapter Six:

**The Coward**

Note: Nick's P.O.V.

* * *

The day Max got busted for some theft was ironically also the day Sam and I said our farewell.

Nothing against Max or anything, I mean, I don't think she's a totally hopeless, people-eating monster like Pruitt does—In fact, I'd almost say I could learn to like her; she's an interesting person. And then again, I guess my worries of her tormenting Sam once I was gone have now lessened and dropped to a safer level since she was obviously going to be on the cops' radar for awhile now.

Anyway, school ended maybe an hour or so after half the school saw Max Batchelder taken down and hauled out by half a dozen officers- I didn't see it personally, but Sam did. According to him, she was a suspect for the smash and grab at a nearby jewelry store that was on the news this morning and when the police cracked open her locker they'd found something.

After he brought me up to par with the school drama and happenings, Sam and I were headed out. We walked our bikes out of the school grounds together, while he tried to convince me to bring him along with me.

It went somewhere along these lines, Sam: "Hey. Hey, Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to move to London."

He said it so seriously that I couldn't help but chuckle at this. "Why?"

Sam looked at me like: _Why not_? "Why? Why?!" He paused to 'tskk.' "Because then, I'm the foreigner, you know. I'll be the American and have an accent and stuff. . ."

Sometimes, I really do believe Sam is one of those people who starts something as a joke but is actually hoping you magically take it seriously instead. He also thought about this, although not very well through but I could tell by the way he talked.

He didn't want to be left behind.

I looked at him, dryly stating, "What are you going to do in London?"

He put his game face on, replying smartly: "I'll be a cricket star." I raised my eyebrows. "Ya'know, those dudes with the mallets?" He swung his arm back and swung an imaginary mallet, adding his own sound effects and clucking when it hit the also imaginary ball.

I paused a moment, my eyebrows scrunching a bit, "I think that's polo."

Sam looked at me, dumbfounded for a moment but he did recover quickly, changing his mind to, "Then I'll be a polo star."

I gave him a pointed look. "You couldn't afford a cell phone; how are you going to get a ticket?" When he avoided my gaze instead looking down and away and continued chewing his gum, I added, "Got a passport?"

He looked up this time and admitted: "No."

I smiled a little and held out my hand to him, "I need someone to write to, man."

He paused a moment before taking it in a half high-five, half shake. "Okay. Alright." Then he dragged me into one of those gay-looking not even half-hugs that he knows I hate as I went stiff and frowned disapprovingly. "I love you, man."

"Love you too," I replied blandly. I'm not a gushy person. At all; in any way, shape, or form. At times, I can be considered less emotional than a brick wall.

He released me then, with an awkward "Good luck out there."

As we reached the school's gates where we would part, we stopped for a few seconds, mostly to mount our bicycles.

"Hey," I gave him my last words with a crooked tooth-baring smile, "Don't look back. Fly on." In all honesty, I think he needed to hear that, just something along the words 'be strong' and a way for him to know that I will miss his idiot ass.

"Don't look back," he repeated, nodding while also looking back.

And with that, we pushed off, pedaling our separate ways to our new lives without each other.

* * *

Note: Third Person P.O.V.

* * *

Sam never had any claims of being a person with courage. Except, perhaps, in _World of Warcraft_ and _BlackOps_ but those would never make up for life lessons.

Maximum wasn't known for mercy. And her gang wasn't known for their lack of loyalty. Or brutality.

And after she was released from custody on bail (Dylan's, no doubt even if it wasn't paid directly by him), she'd wasted no time to explain her suspicions to them- they were all angry enough for the chase.

And that is how Samuel Phyllis ended up in a situation that could only end badly: First having been punched out by Ari before being moved to the agreed meeting place.

The rendezvous was one of Max's favorite hangouts. It was easy to be trapped in, as well as rather secluded, an old, rather abandoned, walkway viewing bridge that didn't offer much escape considering it was entirely covered in chain link. The walkway doubled back on itself as it rose, letting it reach the just over the height of a two story building, although the bridge did not actually cover over any water, it was stretched out over a dip in the earth ruled by grass long enough for a large dog could get lost in, which some might believe it to be a dried up pond. It was in sight of nothing more than railroad tracks.

How Sam ended up there, he couldn't remember, much less grasp onto the feeling of _deja vu _and the fact that he was again in this situation as they had him pushed up in a corner, the chain link digging harshly into his back as he begged for his release.

"You were watching me! I _know_ you know!"

Ari, the larger and darker of her companions with a neat scruff of even hair that reached past his forehead to hang in his eyes and a shadow of stubble from a few days of not shaving, held him up by the throat while Max was, not exactly yelling but compared to her usual calm it was loud and harsh- something that scared Sam even more than her deadly calm.

"I _know_ you know, Sam! Who did it?! _Who did it_?!"

His reply was the same as ever: "I don't know_, I don't_! Please, don't hurt me, I don't know. . ." left him in a sob.

"Iggy," the one with surprisingly, messy strawberry-blonde hair and icy blue eyes and a wiry build whom no one seemed to really catch the real name of- except maybe Maximum herself- took a swing for Sam's gut, knocking him out of Ari's grasp and sending him sprawling before Max pounced.

"_Who did it?! Who turned me in?! I know you know_!"

Sam tried to regain his feet and get away- he really did try but he never had the chance- no matter how much of an illusion of one was presented, Ari and Iggy were on him, regaining their hold- even though he was on the ground.

Something in Max clicked, within a second's fraction; She had her flip knife out and was coming at his face with her eyes wide, the whites flashing rabidly.

"How's your hand, Sam? Huh?! _How's your fucking hand_?!"

That was when Sam realized how hopeless he was, flinching harshly and curling into himself. He knew she wouldn't leave without _something_ at least. His thoughts raced as a little window of escape was presented to him.

"Okay! Okay! I-I'll tell you!" He choked out.

"_Leaving Friday," he'd said. Nick will be gone. He'll never know._He thought to himself. _Tomorrow; he'll be leaving early. He'll never even know._

Max hoisted him by the front of his shirt, listening hungrily as her boys recaptured Sam's arms, once again defeating any glimmer of hope and trapping him efficiently.

And from there, he told a lie. So innocent, so deadly.

Samuel yelled at her so desperately, wishing her away. Her and her tools and her horrible flip knife. "Nick! It was Nick! _Okay_?!"

And Sam condemned him, his only friend. Nick.

The very person who watched out for him and was his backbone whenever Sam could never seem to find his; Sam condemned his best friend. _Also_, he thought bitterly, trying to justify his means, _the very friend who is leaving me behind_.

And little did he know it, but he damned himself as well.

But a coward he was and a coward he'll lie.

And, perhaps, a coward he'd die.

* * *

**Author's Note**:

This chapter is one of my favorites, although it is fairly shorter than I'd prefer but necessarily so. In case you can't tell, I love writing in 3rd person. Mainly because I can choose to see everything, take a glance into everyone's mind and still hide this and that where I wish.

This specific chapter is also the reason I ended up choosing Sam over Iggy as Fang's best friend. I couldn't have Iggy just give up like he would need to, whereas I feel no guilt once so ever letting Sam be a coward.

The next chapter should be rather lengthy, although I'm certain most of you will hate its end. But trust me, it's for the best.

Review Acknowledgements:

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and sorry delaying my replies.

maximumgirl23306- Sorry, I won't answer either of your questions or give away the plot. However, if you so choose- feel free to post guesses and theories. I might even hint if you're right or wrong.

Kayla- Thank you, and worry not- I will continue the story. If I forget to update for whatever reason just attack my inbox and reviews.

Guest#1- Again with the romantic side of this, read the second paragraph of the A/N on Chapter 1 for the idea. I'm going to elaborate why I describe it that way most likely in the next chapter or two, if you can stick around that long. And if I still don't answer it to your satisfaction, feel free to ask again.

Guest#2- Yay! People like my shit!

Hate the story? Like it? Love it? Something wrong? Review.

-_TheInvisibilityComplex_


	7. The Broken

Chapter Seven:

**The Broken**

Note: Nick's P.O.V.

* * *

My plan had originally been to get home and discreetly pack. I'd be leaving early tomorrow.

But as I plodded down the stair to my room, I happened to spy mom sitting straight-backed on one of the stiff sofas around the little coffee table at the base of the stair. Something red sat on the table, she had her hands in her lap and stared straight ahead at some point on the wall.

For anyone else, this might seem normal for their mother to be waiting at home after school but not for me. I knew her. Just like I knew she would normally be in her office until six when she would begin to prepare dinner.

That was when I knew my plans would have to wait.

Upon hearing my footsteps she spoke: "Your flight's been changed."

Well. _Shit_.

I instinctively froze a moment, halfway between two steps; I knew I should've expected this. "Mom, I can explain."

She picked up the red thing that I now recognized to be my passport and stood. "Can you? Can you really?" Her voice was filled with the soft venom only brought out from betrayal and through having failed her control.

I hit the bottom of the stairs as she came to face me. The tension between us was so thick she just might take a slice and serve it for dinner.

I kept my voice solid, face emotionless, eyes beating into her. "I tried to talk to you."

"It doesn't matter." She looked down at my passport. "You had this ticket for weeks, you planned to go no matter what I said."

She dropped the booklet at my feet before shouldering past me, heading back up the stairs to her office. I just stood there, not wanting to give her that satisfaction of having discovered my escape. I heard her pause halfway up. My imagination could tell me that she turned around in hopes that I was looking, her mind conniving.

"My god, Nicholas," She paused to sniffle a little. "You were just going to leave without saying anything?" More huffing sniffles, she started moving again, "I feel like I've been living in this house with a stranger."

I stood there until I couldn't hear her footsteps anymore, then I bent to grab my passport and retreated to my room.

Although I didn't let her see it, in a way she _had_ gotten to me.

Rather than continuing to put my crap together in a bag less secretly than originally planned, I found myself watching an old show on the T.V. while lying upside down. Except now that I'm thinking about what I'm doing, I wasn't actually paying it any attention, my gaze just happened to be directed towards the screen. All that I really knew was that it involved an older Volkswagen Bug.

I was caught up in my own thoughts. I checked my flight's new time, according to the airline's website, it was suggested to be present by ten thirty that night. Therefore I had tons of time to waste considering I had gotten home before it was even two.

I absent-mindedly rolled over and picked up a dart from one of the shelves on my bed's headboard, I rolled it around between my hands as I thought.

Somewhere in the back of my head, that little voice, the one that I'm not terribly sure if everyone really has it or not, that little voice that no matter what you do to disprove or displace it, it's still there and never wrong. The one that you're not even sure if it's really even yours and not some outer being's. That voice. The little voice that had told me to expect this, that my mother always has her fingers in everything, that there was no hiding something as big as leaving from her.

I couldn't help but to think that maybe, just maybe, I should have told her. Just told her that I can't turn down something like that and that I would go with or without her consent. And maybe that would have worked out better than sneaking around. Or maybe I should fix this, try to mend our relationship before I leave.

And maybe I was full of shit.

But her plan _had_ worked, she had planted that seed of guilt in my mind. And grow it did, it had taken root minutes after she set and watered it. Like a strangler vine, it choked my conscience.

Plus, there _was_ some thrill in going behind her back, that rebelling, forbidden sense that had died when she confronted me. Like it just wouldn't be quite as sweet anymore now that I've been caught.

I thought of a thousand different scenarios as I rolled my thumb across the dart's point.

At this point, my brain wasn't exactly my number one ally. In fact, I'm not even sure it had the capability of being helpful at this point. So instead of continuing to allow myself to wallow in my head's opinions and options, I sat up eyeing the ceiling's dartboard before taking a shot at it.

It struck the near the second ring from the outside. I rolled off my bed and pulled a jacket on. Since I was metaphorically still on the fence about leaving, I slipped the ticket, passport and baggage information booklet into the inner pocket. And after a moment of internal conflict I also pocketed the watch mom had given me for graduation.

Then I left.

* * *

Brigid Dwyer's party-throwing skills were not lacking. Even I could admit that. Although, I also admitted that she had a lot to work with in the first place: Nice, big place, parents who were loaded and conveniently away on short business trips often, acquaintances to buy the liquor and provide the drugs.

You couldn't miss out on much of what high school partying was about if you attended a Brigid party. Hell, when I had walked in, there was a pool the size of a house filled with balloons and people who were either completely dressed or missing a lot of what they must've originally had- especially the girls. But the night was still young, I'm sure there will be skinny dippers in an hour or so (if there weren't any hidden in the water already.)

I couldn't tell you exactly why I came here in the first place although I could take a few guesses that wouldn't be far off but anyway, while I was out, I noticed I was in her neighborhood, remembered Lisa's invitation, and thought '_I seriously want a beer._'

And that was that.

Now, here I was, sitting at a patio booth overlooking the pool whilst spinning the little drink server thing with a hand and taking an occasional gulp of Bud every so often. I think I know the song that was playing but I wasn't sure, after all, I barely dabbled in rock, much preferring R&B's Bob Marley, Liam Rooney, and maybe a little Drake over it. Either way, I could guess the song's name was something along "Taking Control" from the repetition of it.

During my mind's rambling, Lisa had caught wind of me. She slipped into the booth next to me, "I thought you were too busy to come."

She held a glass with some sort of amber/red alcoholic drink that she sipped from.

I tipped my chin up at her, "You wanna go to London?" When she scrunched her brows together, I realized the music overpowered my voice. I tried again. "Wanna go to London?!"

She smiled, raised her eyebrows questioningly before nodding and doing that tongue thing chicks do when they eat or drink stuff since they believe it makes us guys think dirty things. Which I may or may not have been thinking.

I showed her the pamphlet, "Serious. Your flight leaves in two hours."

She did that tongue-over-lip thing again as she took another sip before setting it down and leaning forward, "Then we'd better be quick."

She took me away be the thumb. Quite literally. Like, she held my thumb with her whole hand enclosed about it. I'd bet that it was another one of those girls-do-this-to-turn-boys-on things, except it just felt strange.

The next thing I knew was that we were in a bedroom, the door was closed and Lisa was on me.

To say we were fucking would be an overstatement. Her mouth covered mine and I tasted her lipstick and what she was drinking earlier, she attacked me vigorously. Red-blonde hair curtained my face and tickled my ears and neck. Hands were everywhere; mine planted on her ass as she grinded me. Her big loopy earrings thwacking me with the cold shock when we pulled away, her long, still jean-clad legs straddling mine.

And somehow, I felt detached. I was also pretty sure that somehow my pants were unbuttoned and that whenever she felt particularly lustful, a hand would slip down and in there too.

She pulled away, making me fall back when she dropped the pressure on my lips. Her hands ran down my chest, then back up from under the shirt, exploring what I had to offer. She bit her bottom lip in an ideal sexy smirk, exposing her pearly whites.

"What would she think of us now?" her voice was husky. "Your mother?"

I made a guttural sound as her fingers found my jean pockets again and began fishing.

Lisa dragged out a watch, the new one. "Wow, nice watch." She leaned over, giving me what would have been an excellent view of her cleavage had she not broken my interests, and rapped the new watch against the one I wore. "Why do you wear this old thing?"

I looked at it. "Dad gave it to me."

She cocked her head, "Wouldn't he want you to have a nicer watch?"

Biting her lip again, she dropped the watched and started to get back to work. Or would've anyway.

But let me tell you; I did _not_ drink enough for this.

Instead of continuing, I reached out and grabbed her chin just before she could taste me and I pushed her back by it as I nonchalantly rolled out from under her, successfully dumping her onto the bed.

I'm honestly not sure if she only didn't say anything until I had redone my pant's button because she was expecting something else or she was just that shocked.

"_What're you doing?_"

I picked up my jacket, pulling out the passport and tossed it to her before putting it on. "Have fun, "was all I said before I left.

* * *

Note: Third Person's P.O.V.

* * *

One of the first things Nick noticed as he exited the party and returned to walking the street was how cold it was. Not the falling snow type of cold, just the frosty breath-seeing cold.

The second thing he took note of was how pissed he was. How he had the sudden urge to kick down a nearby trash can to blow off some steam, which he did in fact do.

The third thing that caught his attention took him a bit longer to realize. It was the grumble of a car engine moving slowly as it idled down the road, as it was very obvious the driver wasn't giving it gas. When Nicholas heard it, he looked back to see an older model car that would be expensive as hell if it was in better condition. He made a little waving gesture for it to pass.

The car gave a rough grumble-cough as the driver tapped the gas and released it again, as though urging Nick to get out of the road. When he noticed that the car was still there, he stepped closer to his side of the road and swept his arm in a much grander gesture this time. The car huffed again in the gas-release process.

And that was when sense hit him. He looked back at the car again, it was too dark to see anyone on the inside but he knew the chill that suddenly went down his back when the car gave another rumble had nothing to do with the cold.

Nick took off at a dead sprint and the car roared after him.

Through pure instinct but with the delay of his conscience mind thinking it through, he made towards the woods on the far side of the road, hoping to go down the trail that led near his home.

Unfortunately, that was what the car's pilot wanted, it didn't exactly strike him squarely- In fact, it wouldn't have touched him at all had the driver not foreseen that and threw their door open to ensure he'd be hit and momentarily stunned, at least. The impact snapped a piece of the side-view mirror off as it sent Nick flying into a puddle within the tree line with an "Uff!"

The car backed up and pulled itself in more neatly, the driver's door already closed again. Nick had already begun to recover and was rolling over to recover his feet while crawling away haphazardly when he heard a "Hey, where you off to?" and a pair to heavy footsteps following.

What happened next was a total blur to Nicholas, all he knew was that he was either being hit—by fist, boot, or bat, he couldn't tell—or trying to recover and run, his body in control of the robotic-like movements that kept seizing up. He could also hear in fragments.

Ari and Iggy taunted him as they beat him, considering how much he was still moving, they weren't hitting him too hard.

As for Maximum, she was the driver. And that was where she watched them with a dark intensity and the satisfaction that someone who had done her two wrongs was getting was he deserved by her means.

She could hear them, the occasional grunt of pain or effort mixed with the sound of flesh against flesh and wood against flesh.

And Sam, too, was there. His nose was bloody but not broken from where he's been punched out earlier. He sat in the rear middle seat; his eyes crinkled almost closed, daring to open them every so often. He whimpered, "I can't watch this. Please make them stop." It hardly came out louder than a whisper.

"Shut up," Max snarled quietly back.

"Please. _Please_ tell them to stop," Samuel tried again, somewhat determined not to be doing nothing to stop them. "_Please tell them to stop_."

She ignored him. Waited a long moment before slipping out of the car and approaching the boys. She shouldered between them and held a hand out for Ari's bat, which he relinquished to her as he and Iggy stood back.

Max took a swing, which turned into more, each feeding her fury as her voice grew louder, harsher; "How do you like that lover boy?!" She kicked him. "Do you think of that now? Huh! Now that you've turned me in?!" Two last swings.

Sam had come out towards to scene now, like a starved and cowering animal too desperate for what there was to be had. "Stop! _Stop_! I didn't know. You were supposed to be on a plane, Nick-"

Iggy caught gave him a solid punch to the gut, sending Sam to the ground. "Nick can't hear you, you fucking idiot."

Ari moved behind Max to join in with Iggy.

Stepping forward, Maximum got a big handful of Nick's shirt to make him face her head-on. Half of his was covered in a lovely mix of blood and dirt.

"You're so damn perfect." She dropped him, "Who's the broken one now?"

It was amazing that Nick still had the strength left to croak, "You are. . . It's still you."

She had started to leave when she heard that, she turned back, "What'd you say?"

Nick had rolled back up onto all fours again by now; he looked at her and repeated himself again.

"Still you."

Max swung the bat at him hard, letting out a cry of effort and he thumped back down onto his back again. She was breathing hard as she backed away, ready to scram.

Except this time Nick didn't get up. The others were beginning to back away before the noticed this. Anytime he was hit before, he'd be mechanically rolling back and trying to crawl away within seconds. And yet, there he was still on his back.

The gang converged back upon him, slowly. Max and Iggy looked down on him.

"What'd you do?" Iggy asked quietly, trying to hold back the panic as Ari got down on his knees to check for breath. "_Oh, jeez_."

Ari put his ear over Nick's nose and listened, then scrunching his eyebrows in either confusion, frustration, or both, he held his fingers over the mouth and nose for a minute. He stood back up and looked at Max.

"He's not breathing."

* * *

**Author's Note**:

Dun dun dun dum.

I promise, it's better this way. If you guys want to take half a million guesses of what Max is going to do about it, go for it.

Anyway, I had some serious feels going on yesterday as well as drowning in my own baked goods so I almost made you guys wait until Christmas for this chapter but I will apologize for the extra day wait, this chapter turned out much longer than I expected.

So, yeah. Enjoy your cliff-hanger and I'm only going to do review acknowledgements every other chapter.

Hate the story? Like it? Love it? Something wrong? Review.

-_TheInvisibilityComplex_


	8. The Secret

Chapter Eight:

**The Secret**

Note: Third Person's P.O.V.

* * *

"_He's not breathing_." Ari said again.

"Oh, man! What the _Hell,_ Max!?" Iggy started pacing, biting his finger before turning back to Max who stood stock still, hand over her mouth, and ghastly pale, her eyes still fixed on Nick's body as if watching for any sign of life still in him. "_What the fuck did you do that for_?!"

But Max was in her own mind, memories and feeling building up and repeating themselves in an _I-Told-You-So_ manner. She kept seeing them, telling her, all within seconds. It was as if time itself had paused for her, if only to remind her of all the pain she wore as armor while the world around kept moving, panicking.

_She saw Jeb, pissed just after losing his wife and his job, his face unshaven and his eyes picking her out for ridding the blame that ruined him, that he eventually made sure ruined her, too: _Shut up and don't touch him- You ruin everything you fucking touch Maxine.

_The principal after she's first started losing her temper and getting caught when he thought she couldn't hear him through the door venting to a secretary: _She's a hopeless wreck, that's what she is. She'll be lucky to graduate before she ends up in juvy_._

_More recently, Dylan_: You're just getting more and more out of control_._

_Nick. Little images of him throughout the years. She'd been in his classes of years but never thought of it until now, Nick with his neat black high school attire and emotionless features, the little kid with scruffy black hair and a grin that was missing a few teeth from elementary school where he was mostly known as "Fang." Max briefly thought the name suited him better now than then. Then him whispering into her ear: _You are so broken_. . . His cocky expression: _You're right, I'm a total hypocrite_. . .Then, just moments ago, when he was still alive: _You are. . .still you_._

_Then, she saw her mother. The only other person she had ever seen die, lying in the hospital bed. Max was the only one who got the call. She had just given Max her necklace, the one she never took off but kept hidden so no one could ask about it. Max was crying hard, in the ugly sobs brought on by true misery as she gripped her mom's hand with both of hers, her mother told her to be brave, that she loved her, that everything would be okay but Max couldn't stop saying _no_. _

She could have sworn she heard Zephyr too, in his little voice: _Are you gonna come back, Maxie?_ But that was also when, surprisingly enough, Sam snapped her out of her reverie.

Sam had taken notice to the fact that his best friend was lying on his back, not moving with blood leaking across his face and crept up while Max had been blanked out. He was afraid of what he might see, terrified of what he might want to see. He said slowly, in a dead voice, "What did you do?"

Max was suddenly freed from the torment of her own brain by his voice. She almost started to chew her nails, but instead dropped her hands to her side.

"Shut up." Her voice came out as a mangled whisper.

But Sam kept repeating himself like a broken record instead, growing louder and hoarser in his denial in an attempt not to cry again. "What did you do?"

And Max in return, also grew louder as she fought all the human emotion bubbling up inside her, the regret and the urge to vomit. "_Shut up_."

"What did you do, Max?"

"_Shut up_!"

Ari sat nearby, looking at his hands, seemingly calm but Iggy on the other hand wasn't keeping his cool too well, his pacing had grown faster and his breathing harsher, and he reached her again the same time Sam reached Nick, crouching over him and muttering "sorry" over and over.

He whirled on Max, reaching for her arm but missing as she moved them to hold her head. "I am _not_ going to jail for this, _Maxine_."

Max covered her ears with bent arms and bowed her head for no more than a moment. She was pushing all the conflicting opinionated thoughts and feelings back into the cages she'd carved for them long ago. She took a deep breath and when she released it, she let logic take over her. First, they needed to get rid of the body.

Ari stood and returned to her side, recognizing the return of her calm demeanor as Iggy crouched and rose again in an attempt to think straight.

Max looked at them, "Okay. We have to pick him up."

"I'm not touching him!" Iggy replied almost instantly, Ari knew better than to argue- if they were going to get out of this one they needed to stay together.

"Pick him up!"

In the end, they all ended up carrying the body by a limb each- even Sam helped with an arm. Nick's jacket flapped about and the watch he'd tucked in it after his Lisa-encounter fell out unnoticed as they dragged on, farther into the forest- over small ridges and rocks, around bushes. It was, undoubtedly, a rather tough job to do, not to mention unsanitary.

"Keep moving," Max ordered, "We've got to get him further in the woods. Just, keep moving."

So they continued struggling along, with minimal commentary (This is so gross; I can't believe this shit; Ew), until Sam tripped over a storm drain and Ari pointed it out to the Max and Iggy.

"Guys, there's one of those sewage pipeline things, with the big metal top. It's perfect."

And it was, overgrown with vegetation making it hard to ever be physically noticeable unless stumbled upon by random or by blueprints with the pipe's system mapped out on it. Plus the fact that whenever it stormed, the rain would wash away any scent in the case of search dogs.

The group agreed, Ari, Max, and Iggy having one of their rare instances of true, single-minded, same-purpose teamwork as they worked to lift the quote, "stupid heavy-ass lid" and move it enough to dump Nick's body unceremoniously in the hole.

After replacing the top, they looked down at the bloody form that they could barely see and mostly imagined through the slots in it.

Max just stared blankly, blocking out any and all feeling, she wouldn't let them see her weak, not now. Ari and Iggy contemplated the possibility of someone finding the body as well as plans to rid of any evidence on them, they would need to burn their clothes. And Sam, he was confused; he wanted to think he could go to the police once he was released but he wasn't too certain that he wanted to risk it, he might end up dead too, maybe even in that very same hole.

Max turned away first, the others followed in silence.

* * *

There was a constant pounding on the heavy metal door that had woken Dylan up. Needless to say, it was well into the early morning and he was far from the best mood, hence why it took him so long before he was peeking through the peep-hole, half expecting cops but instead seeing a rather disheveled Max screaming at him to open up. Which, he did comply with after moving the four locks out of place while letting out a curse.

Once the door was open, Max turned from the frantic girl throwing herself against the door like her life depended on it and screaming so desperately that her face had turned blotchy into a different person, a calm, in control Max.

Dylan just stared at her, blankly shocked by her instantaneous change. There were times that he began to wonder if his girlfriend was schizo or had multiple personalities or something as such.

He was the first to speak, half questioning why she was here and her sudden shift in behavior: "What the hell happened?"

She took another deep breath as she continued slowly in and ignored him a moment before releasing it and letting it form the words she needed to say.

"I killed him."

"What did you say?"

She stopped in front of him and she could feel Dylan's ocean blues piercing her. She looked up. He looked momentarily confused.

"I killed him."

That was Dylan realized that she was serious. That Max really had murdered someone this time. "Killed who?"

Max hesitated, "Nicholas Walker." And when Dylan started to scrunch his eyebrows in confusion, she added, "That kid who sold me out."

Dylan went slack-jawed, only now understanding what a situation he had caused while Max massaged her temple and shifted uneasily on her feet.

"What are we going to do?" she murmured, looking up at him again, her eyes bloodshot.

Dylan jerked his head to look at the door, ensuring himself that police aren't aware of the dead boy yet and are not coming for him again before turning on her, "Why the hell did you come here, Max?"

She just looked at him.

Swearing, "Jesus Christ," Then he lost it. "You _know_ I'm on parole, Maximum; _Why'd you come here_?"

"I needed you now, Dylan," she said softly.

He took a brief moment to laugh, thinking it was a joke before realizing she wasn't kidding and turned back to a serious calm that made her think that he had some mental problems for a change.

"What did I say to you, huh?" Pause. "You're way out of control. You should've listened to me, now _get_ _out_." He motioned back to the way she came.

Max just looked at him with a level stare.

"Get. _Out_!" he repeated.

She continued to give him the same look as she stepped forward as though she were about to defy him before taking a ninety degree detour towards the shop. She ran her bloodied hand across a silver car's hood before he could shout "Don't touch that!"

She muttered, "Stolen," as she left blood on everything she could see in his shop that had been, her voice growing louder, harsher, stronger, and angrier each time it repeated. And before she even realized it she was ripping items from the shelves and throwing them down and managing to break whatever flew down last, hearing it shatter.

Then she snagged Dylan's face, and pulled it down to press her lips to his in a short, fierce, rather impulsive kiss. Then she shoved him away, "I knew I could trust you."

Dylan just stood there stiffly, watching as she stomped back out through the heavy door he wanted her to leave through in the first place.

All the clothes Max had worn, including her favorite beanie, during the incident were burned by dawn.

* * *

**Author's Note**:

Sorry for the delay- Between the thing not letting me manage my stories and the fact that I was somewhat distracted by cars, mutts, practice, and a short-handed shelter, not to mention this chapter took extra thought to write. All that delving into Max's head in the beginning took a couple tries to get right, especially since I want you to see her as she is and how so often the abused become the abusers. But I also want you to form your own opinions on her as well, which can only be done correctly if you see her as she is.

Anyway, so, yeah. Like 1800 words up there.

The next chapter is Fang's POV, anyone wanna guess what that'll be about?

And just for the record, this story is far from over.

Review Acknowledgments:

BrokenSky49: _It's because the genre isn't listed under Romance, although- perhaps I could trick more readers into looking at it by changing the genre every time I update to match that specific chapter. Now, if only I could get over the obstacle of laziness to do so._

maximumgirl23306: _Shhhh, it's a surprise. . ._

black rabbit: _Yeah, I got a thumbs up- Take that, world!_

Aww Potatoes: _What makes for a better cliffy than killing the main character? And thanks, you have no idea how hard I have to work to keep my mind straight enough to do this and still keep things somewhat in order, especially when I'm in Fang's head and have to remember that he must protect his crotch and not feel the urge to give other men a judging once-over. Plus, I hate when people keep repeating the same words over and over like they've never heard of a thesaurus._

-Hate it? Sucks that Fang died? Something wrong? Or actually like it? Should totally review-

_-TheInvisibilityComplex_


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